


Worth a Thousand Words

by RhiannonSilverflame (throughtosunrise)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughtosunrise/pseuds/RhiannonSilverflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: "Hand-holding.</p><p>Any pairing. Can be romantic, but doesn't have to be. Just the intimacy and comfort that comes from holding hands."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth a Thousand Words

It ought not to be so comforting a thing as it is, the feel of that rough and chapped skin against hers, the hand so thin and seemingly fragile that she could, if she so wished, count its bones by simply trailing her thumb across the back of it; those sensations ought to make her recoil in horror, not prompt her to give that hand a gentle squeeze and feel a light shiver of pleasure when those fingers slide between her own. It ought not to be a touch she craves so much; were she to look down at it, the ragged fingernails with their dirt-caked nailbeds ought by all rights to repulse her, not coax a fond and joyful smile from her lips.

She is very well aware of what those hands can do. They are nimble and clever, and their roughness sparks a fire in her nerves when they sweep reverently across the tender skin of her thighs; those fingers, with a familiarity that verges on insolence, know how to wring from her body a perfect symphony of pleasure.

But it is, perhaps, the simple brush of Éponine's hand against her own that affects Cosette most profoundly. She does not hold any animosity against Éponine herself for the anguish and fear of their early childhood, mostly dispelled but occasionally lurking, bandit-like, in the hidden corners of her memory. As a child she had tried to love Éponine as she had tried to love the other people in her life, only to be rebuffed as she was with all the rest. There is a small part of her that feels triumphant every time Éponine takes her hand now, as if after all this time those efforts proved not wholly in vain; there is a lingering bit of shadow from her childhood that is chased away by the light in Éponine's otherwise dull eyes every time Cosette links their fingers together and refuses to let go.

They can be out on a busy street in the middle of the day; when the press and noise of the crowd get to be too much, she will feel Éponine's fingers curling around her hand as if she is searching for an anchor. The laughter and careless demeanor she presents to the world exist in part to hide a vulnerability that rarely shows itself outside of that singular gesture familiar only to Cosette, who takes a particular pride in feeling the tension in Éponine's body slowly ease when, without breaking contact, she turns her hand to rearrange both of theirs into a proper clasp. They can be in Cosette's garden late at night, perfectly content to enjoy each other's company in silence for fear that a single spoken word will shatter their stolen peace; she will reach out to take Éponine's hand in her own, because it suffices to say all that words cannot without breaking the night's spell: _This moment is for you and I alone, and I love you._

They have built up between them a complex language of contact in which, through practice, they have become fluent, but no gesture in its lexicon is more eloquent or versatile than this. The simplest touch can convey the most profound meaning.

**Author's Note:**

> I somehow ended up writing this while sitting in line waiting for panels at SDCC. I blame some meta of voksen's for giving me the idea.


End file.
